I see shimmers and blurs on the wall. I hear cracks and jitters from my speakers. All these ordinary things you don’t usually pay attention to when there are more important things.
Right now, nothing is important to me, except the screen, the desk lamp and that trapped thought at the back of my head. I have one hundred sets of keys. I’ve been stealing pretty keyrings, pretending I’ve spent a fortune on birthday presents.
Last Sunday, when I was at Greenwich Park, chasing evil grey squirrels, I realized how stupid I looked. In general. It wasn’t because I was dressed in black, wearing my hood that resembled the grim reaper’s cloak. And it wasn’t because the cold had made my eyes water.
I saw families. Kids and dogs. Elderly couples. Joggers. More couples. More happy dogs and kids. I hated them all.
Some other girls were walking alone through the park too. Most of them were either on the phone or had a clear idea of where they were headed.
I had no clue where I was. Suddenly I was up a hill, then back down and up again. My perception disintegrated into thin air, and there were only my feet following footsteps into the unknown.
Compasses are obsolete.
When my senses came back, I began to give each beautiful tree a name.
Lately, I’ve been getting up at seven to go to the gym at about eight. This is a good way to cut the nightmares short. There were more zombies, more shadows and mass extinction. No matter how you interpret this, I have to link these nightmares with my impatience. Once I’ve done my job, the zombies will turn into humans, the shadows into light and the rest will come with survival guides.
Once I’ve achieved that, I will show you my delicate middle finger, and I shall disappear someplace so that you won’t see me again.
Sometimes I wish I could give up on my philosophy right away. Other people’s philosophy: “Treat people the way you want to be treated” is the most preposterous thing that has ever crossed my mind.
Every third person comes up with this nonsense. It should be: “Treat people the way they deserve to be treated.” It allows you to retaliate in a way. It gets boring, though. I’d prefer not to treat anyone in any way.
Number “9” looks so human, so adventurous, and so strong. Despite the heavy head, it’s still standing…ready to go anywhere.